


The Golden Girl

by hpprofessor1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamione - Freeform, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpprofessor1/pseuds/hpprofessor1
Summary: Hermione did something stupid. She did something stupid and felt no regret for doing it. Will it come back to haunt her years later or will it grow into something she never could have imagined?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 17
Kudos: 144





	1. Chapter 1

Death surrounded her. Everywhere Hermione looked, Hermione would lose count of how many lifeless bodies were in her view. Creatures on either side of the fight, Hogwarts students who bravely, or stupidly, turned up to fight and lost their lives at such a young age, former friends, elves, even a few giants here and there. Hermione did not know how to feel. She didn’t know if she even could feel anymore.

She should be happy. They won. Voldemort was dead. Harry finally did it. Hermione knew she should be feeling some sort of relief that finally after all these years of fighting for her life and protecting her friends, she could stop and breathe, but she felt nothing. No, not nothing. Maybe she would feel something eventually, but for now she felt overwhelmingly tired.

She felt tired from all the overexertion of being on the run constantly and then immediately thrown into the final battle, but that was not the kind of tired that overwhelmed her. She was just tired of all the fighting. So many people dead and she knew in ten or twenty years when history tomes were written and presented in courses, names would most certainly be forgotten, and the battle would be just a blip in the course of history.

Hermione walked to the Great Hall to join the others who were mourning the loss of their friends and family. She expected a lot of people to be in differing states of distress and disrepair, but what she did not expect was to hear a familiar voice yell, “Not my daughter, you bitch!” and a bone chilling cackle. She turned to see Mrs. Weasley going spell for spell against the woman that tortured her and dug her knife into her skin, spelling the derogatory word into her arm with no remorse. 

Hermione really should have been on Mrs. Weasley’s side and been happy that she was holding her ground against the former Dark Lord’s right hand, but she instead felt a combination of anger and the overwhelming tiredness. She just wanted the fighting to stop. Too many people were dead. She did not want to be around any more battles. She saw the beginnings of that deadly green light about to leave Mrs. Weasley’s wand and something in her broke. Without her consciously realizing what she was doing, Hermione quietly uttered a spell which knocked Mrs. Weasley back a few inches. It did not hurt her, but she was never able to finish her spell. Given the small break, Bellatrix apparated away without a word.

Everyone who had stopped to watch the duel go down looked around in confusion. Mrs. Weasley gave an anguished cry of frustration. Hermione looked around to see if anyone saw her cast the spell that caused the distressed cry from Mrs. Weasley, but everyone had been too engrossed in watching the notorious death eater die at the hands of a house wife that no one had been paying attention to the brightest witch of her age.

Hermione stood still, trying to get her bearings. What had she just done? She just let the person who tortured her, the person who had Crucio’d Neville’s parents into shells of themselves, the person who had killed Sirius, her own cousin, and laughed about it, just vanish into thin air and Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care much at all about it. She just felt a sense of relief that the fighting had stopped. What small number of duels that had still been going on before this happened had all dissipated after hearing Mrs. Weasley’s cry. 

Hermione did not really know what to do now. Ron, Ginny, and Arthur were comforting Mrs. Weasley, vowing to her that they would find Bellatrix and get revenge. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Hermione decided she needed to clear her thoughts as best as she could and turned away from the destroyed building that she had once called home.   
She walked aimlessly away from Hogwarts and eventually came to the all too familiar form of her friend who ended it all. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bridge that acted as one of the entryways into the building. The one Draco’s mother, Narcissa, had tucked Draco away from and exited during the battle. Hermione wasn’t sure why that image came to mind when she saw the bridge, but she didn’t have much motivation to analyze why it came up either, so she pushed the thought away. 

Harry had been sitting, holding the Elder wand in his hand. He must have been deep in thought because once Hermione came and took a seat beside him, he acted startled, but then gave a small stream of breath through his nose in a warm, friendly, but tired, chuckle. 

“Sorry, I just wanted a break from everything and didn’t hear you coming,” Harry supplied. Hermione gave Harry a small smile and gently shook her head.

“No, I should be sorry. I know how much you’ve gone through today. I should have suspected you would want a moment away from the chaos to think. Care to spare a thought or two?” Hermione asked. After staying with Harry in close quarters on the hunt for Horcruxes, Hermione had become a confidant for Harry and helped him sort out his thoughts. She had been the one to help him once Ron stormed off in anger during their search.

“I just-I don’t know what to do now.” Harry said after a brief pause. Hermione looked at him expectedly, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“All my life I have been preparing for this battle. I had no choice, really. It was in my prophesy. Dumbledore ensured I would be where I am today and so I went through the motions of school and went about my life with the fear of knowing I would have to fight in the back of my mind. Don’t get me wrong, I have great memories and great friends,” he supplied, smiling at Hermione briefly before looking back at the wand in his hands, “but that whole time I knew I had a purpose. Now it’s finished. Voldemort is dead and I don’t know where to go from here.” 

Hermione understood Harry’s sentiments. Though she technically had free will and could have done anything she wanted with her life, once she was tied to Harry, there really was no turning back. The trio knew Hermione was the brains of the group and they would not be where they were today without her cunning and wits to keep them alive and out of as much trouble as she could prevent. 

Hermione also knew Harry sometimes better than he knew himself. Sometimes he got too caught up in his thoughts that he did not see what he could have. “Harry, you just did what no one could do. You killed the Dark Lord after hunting down his horcruxes that could have been anywhere in the world. You need to give yourself a bit of credit.” Hermione smiled and nudged her shoulder against Harry’s before continuing. “You will be hounded after the Ministry to join them, probably getting any position you want. You have so many opportunities before you and a family to back you up.” 

Hermione did not need to elaborate. Coming from the Dursley’s unloved and utterly alone, Harry could never have imagined the people he would have in his life today. He had a family in his friends, the whole Weasley family, and even had a godson, Teddy, whose parents had been victims of the violent battle.  
Harry smiled. He knew talking to Hermione would help clear up some of the fog in his mind, as their talks usually had when he was struggling with something. Harry then stood up from the ledge and offered a hand to Hermione to help up, which she took.

“Thank you, Hermione. I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I suppose the name “Boy Who Lived” will get me somewhere if I want. I do want to work for what I want though. I don’t want things to be handed to me just because I’m me. I want to feel normal, or as normal as the guy that killed the most notorious enemy can be. That starts with going back to square one. I don’t want to have more power than others. I’ve been sitting here debating what to do with this, but you helped make my decision clear.” Harry said, looking at the wand he still held in his hands.

Harry determinedly walked to the edge of the bridge and snapped the Elder Wand in half, throwing both ends over the edge. Hermione saw a brief smile and a sigh of relief come from Harry as he threw the once powerful wand over the bridge. Without needing to say anything, both friends turned and walked back to the castle to assess the damage and mourn with their friends. Hermione knew Harry had a better idea of what was he may do in the future and she was happy for him. Now she just needed to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione woke up in her bed with the sunrise. After a bit of glorious stretching, she begrudgingly left the comfort of the bed and walked down the stairs of her home to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. As she was waiting for it to brew, she contemplated the upcoming day. Hermione worked at St. Mungos, putting her extensive knowledge and the thirst for it to use as a Dark Magic & Other Ailments Coordinator. She remembered walking into St. Mungos with the proposal to hire someone to map out the lingering effects of dark magic on the wizards and witches it had been used on, knowing people generally shook their head in empathy towards those who had been effected, silently glad it had not happened to them, and went about their day. 

No one had looked into a cure, they simply thought it was something that was unfortunate enough to happen to someone, but nothing could be done. Hermione was determined to prove them wrong. The director of St. Mungos, Thomas MacDougal, heard her proposal and hired her on the spot. He was skeptical of there actually being a cure but explained to her that if anyone could do it, he had his faith in the Brightest Witch of Her Age.

Five years later brought Hermione to her current predicament. She had researched extensively and was finding discoveries in great strides, but she was faced with a particularly difficult conundrum. Hermione had brought it upon herself to research the reversal of the Cruciatus curse. The effects, if only effected once, would eventually go away after a few minutes. She was concerned with that to begin with, but Hermione was never one to make a small goal. She decided she wanted to help Neville get his parents back. She had seen him every weekend walking morosely into St. Mungos to visit them. They usually shared a chat after he was done visiting, but something always stuck with Hermione. He kept coming back to visit his parents who had been in the same comatose-like state since they had been violently attacked by Bellatrix's favorite curse multiple times with hardly a break in between. Nothing ever changed with their state, but Hermione always saw a glimmer of hope in Neville's eyes when she saw him leaving their room. She wanted to do this for Neville, perhaps selfishly as a voice in the back of her mind told her she should be wanting to help others from an objective point of view, not show favoritism or prioritize problems that she had personal connections to. She validated her choice by convincing herself it was a severe enough problem that it should be at the top of her list, even if there were other ailments she could be working on that were much more prevalent.

Hermione could not help but be brought back to the day she saved Bellatrix. Thinking back on how exhausted she felt, she still did not regret her decision. She was initially a bit worried that someone had seen what she did to Molly, but after years of seeing articles in the Daily Prophet speculating exactly what had happened that day, not one speculation came close to the truth. She did wonder what had happened to Bellatrix and whether she made the best decision.

She knew Bellatrix was in hiding. Articles had run rampant with where the Death Eater could have disappeared to and from Harry and Ron's stories, it seemed like she was the number one person on their list of people they were searching for. Hermione knew if Bellatrix survived, she would most likely stay in hiding, coming up with her next steps on destruction, refusing to acknowledge that the death of the Dark Lord was the end of the war. She probably was itching to get back into action and perhaps had even been able to torture more people along the way who, like Neville's parents, were unable to do much of anything but breathe. It was that thought that also propelled Hermione to find a cure against the effects of the unforgivable curse.

Hermione finished her thought with a slight nod of her head, noting to herself that she was doing the right thing, and poured herself a cup of coffee now that it had stopped brewing. She sat down at her favorite chair in her living room and sighed appreciatively at her drink, thinking of how proud she was to be where she was at that moment. After the war, Hermione had gained a lot of momentum. She finished her final year at Hogwarts after Harry and Ron decided to go straight into being aurors. She had plenty of offers for jobs after she finished her schooling, but she knew she wanted to do something for herself, which is what brought her to her current job at St. Mungos. 

The job paid much more than she would have asked for, but Thomas refused anything lower. Hermione used that money to buy a house that was considerably bigger than her parent's home, but still small enough to feel comfortable. She still had a big sum of money after buying her home, so she started a House Elf Liberation organization using the extra money. It had gained some following in the news, but not nearly as much as she had wanted. This of course did not deter her, and she spent many weekends speaking to others shamelessly using her status as one of the Golden Trio to get others to listen to her.

Hermione sipped the rest of her coffee and walked to the kitchen to put it in the sink to clean later. She could do it with magic easily, but something about washing dishes helped relieve some stress after long days of getting nowhere in her research. Hermione magically changed out of her pajamas and into her plain robes for work and walked over to the fireplace connected to the Floo Network that was directly connected to her office in St. Mungos. After tossing the powder and feeling the familiar woosh that came with the magical green flames, Hermione had arrived in her office and was ready to pour into her work. She had recently been searching into potions that may have been able to reverse some effects, but she was not confident enough to try it out on Neville's parents. She wanted to be sure everything was absolutely right before she did anything that could potentially harm his parents further. 

After the long day of looking into different potions and researching different ingredients she could use that could modify the current potions, Hermione had reached a good stopping point. She did not feel like she was making huge progress, but she felt like she was slowly making headway. She flooed back to her home and began to summon a pot and food from the freezer to start making dinner. She enchanted her knife to cut some chicken to put in the pot for some chicken stew. The thought of being able to clean the dishes later to clear her mind after eating such a comforting meal was something Hermione had looked forward to during the day.

Hermione measured the broth and enchanted the knife to cut the rest of the ingredients to put in the pot. Hermione knew she could make the stew much quicker if she used magic, but something about letting it heat up on the stove and let all the ingredients have time to interact and meld with each other made the flavors seem to be more present. Hermione knew sometimes the muggle way of doing things was much better than the ways of the wizarding world. Wizards and witches relied too heavily on magic to do everything for them. It could be beneficial in a lot of areas, but Hermione thought that they really did not know how to stop and do things that take more time but give better results.

Hermione let the stew start cooking on the stove and decided she would take a relaxing bath while it cooked. She walked to her bathroom, magicked hot water into the tub, and stripped in front of the mirror. As she examined the image that reflected back at her, she couldn’t help but to compare it to her past. She never was very concerned with how she looked, but back in her Hogwarts days she had been stick thin with no figure and no real interest in the way she looked. Now that Hermione was older, she had filled in her form more. She certainly was not as voluptuous as the witches she saw in the ads for the shiniest new broom, but she had noticeably more curves than she had in school.   
Hermione’s gaze drifted to the scar on her arm. It still throbbed from time to time, particularly after waking up from nightmares that occasionally plagued her mind. They had been much more prevalent 5 years ago, but now after some time, she would only have them occasionally. The scar still looked fresh as the day it had been sliced into her skin. Hermione figured there had been a spell or curse on the knife Bellatrix had used that prevented it from healing. Hermione made it a personal side project to look into the curse further but had not gotten very far, as she no longer possessed the knife and could not cast a spell on it to determine what was added to it that created the long-lasting effect on her arm.

Hermione let the thought go, determined to look into the project later, and slipped into the tub, releasing a long sigh after feeling her muscles relax in the warm water. She liked to take baths after particularly long days. Hermione summoned her most recent book she was enjoying. Dark Magic: The Unforeseen Benefits most likely did not sound like a fun read to anyone, but Hermione liked to examine multiple perspectives of things before she perceived them to be inherently good or bad. She knew a lot of dark magic was most certainly bad, the unforgivables, for example, but there were some things she considered to be useful in certain contexts.  
Hermione most recently read about the spell most recognizably used by the death eaters to get around quickly in small spaces. The spell, Noxium Volanti, which allowed a wizard or witch to glide quickly to other places, as used in the Department of Mysteries when searching for Harry’s prophecy, could very well be used by aurors, for example, to catch suspects unawares, as it took much less energy than apparating. 

Hermione put her book down for the moment so she could resume her bath. She used her favorite lavender soap and eucalyptus shampoo. She never liked the scents that smelled like a bakery, like vanilla or brown sugar. She gravitated towards the more natural smells, which also doubled as a sort of aroma therapy. She rinsed her hair and let the water drain from the tub. She summoned some underwear and a robe around her, electing to change fully into pajamas after dinner, and walked downstairs to finish up her meal.  
Hermione turned off the stew and lifted the lid to smell the amazing aroma that floated up towards her. The smell of the stew never failed to remind her of winter nights with her parents as a child. Her mom would specially make the stew on snowy nights where the family would eat dinner and change into comfy pajamas and watch whatever movie Hermione wanted. She always chose The Little Mermaid. The movie always got her in a great mood. She understood Ariel’s desire to explore a world her family was unaware of. Looking back on it, Hermione realized that she was much different from Ariel in the fact that even as a child she knew she was different, and once she learned she was a witch, she wanted to envelope herself in the new world her parents had never known about.

Smiling at the pleasant memory, Hermione decided to eat dinner in the living room and turn on her TV. She immediately thought about the first time she invited Ron and Harry over to see her new home. Ron was miffed by the television, unsure of what it was. When she turned it on, Ron stared at it in fascination as Hermione and Harry laughed in the shared knowledge of the wonders of a television.

Hermione ate her stew as she watched the muggle news for the afternoon. She liked to keep herself updated in the comings and goings of the muggle world. It reminded her of where she had come from. Hermione thought of her parents and how much she had loved them. They were still in Australia with no memory of having a daughter, but Hermione had decided after long and difficult deliberation that she had already disrupted her parent’s lives once hen she erased their memories and sent them to another country. She could not bring herself to disrupt their lives again. 

Hermione finished her stew and walked to the kitchen to start on the dishes. She summoned hot water and soap into the sink and grabbed the pot, her bowl, cutting board, and spoon and brought them to the sink. She had a feeling she was missing something, but after glancing around the counter where she had prepared the food, she did not see anything amiss.

Turning back to the sink, Hermione grabbed a sponge and the stew pot and got to work. She quickly got into the easy rhythm of washing the dishes that she got lost in her thoughts almost immediately. She thought about her work and what she could do to modify the potion she had in mind as the base. She had a few options in mind but would need to research their properties fuller before she went about trying to brew the potion. The first thought was mermaid hair. Mermaid’s hair was well known as a very powerful ingredient only to be used in moderation, as too much of it can turn the potion into poison. The hair, used correctly, had been used in healing potions used for life-threatening fissures and wounds, but Hermione was unsure as to weather the healing properties were only physical, or if put in the right mixture of ingredients, could be used for mental healing as well.

Hermione continued pondering other potential ingredients and washing dishes before she realized what she had missed earlier when she was grabbing the dishes to be brought to the sink.

"Hello, Muddy." A chilling and familiar voice said from behind her, as her missing utensil, the knife she had used to chop the ingredients for the stew, had been pressed against her throat. 

Hermione’s hand immediately stopped the scrubbing she had been doing as she froze. Ironically the first thought in her mind had been her woeful decision to wait to put pajamas on until after she ate. She immediately regretted that decision. 

"Bellatrix," she whispered reluctantly. 

Hermione knew exactly who that voice belonged to. It was the same voice that screamed wildly at her accusing her of stealing a sword from her vault all those years ago, though at the moment it felt like she had just been pressed against the floor, having the derogatory word sliced into her arm. Hermione did not know what to do at that moment. She had no idea how Bellatrix even got into her home, which she had carefully warded herself. She intended to get answers though.

"H-how, no, why... What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, not able to decide what question she wanted to asked first.

Hermione could feel Bellatrix chuckle darkly behind her. Without removing the knife from Hermione's throat, she answered. "Well, pet, it seems Mr. Golden Boy and his pals have come too close to comfort to my little hideout. I had to leave on the spot and who better to stay with than his mudblood slut?" Bellatrix chuckled as she pressed up closer to Hermione, invading her space more fully, making her even more aware of the lack of clothing she currently possessed.

"Why me exactly? What makes you think I won't just turn you in?" Hermione asked defiantly. She may have been scared, but she was still a Gryffindor and was filled with courage, perhaps misplaced considering who she was speaking to, but courage, nonetheless. 

Bellatrix flipped Hermione around to face her but held the knife point towards Hermione threateningly. Hermione could see that Bellatrix had not been taking great care of herself wherever she had been staying previously. Her cheeks were gaunt, her hair flew in wild directions, her teeth were still rotted, and her skin, if possible, looked even paler than before.

"Well, Muddy, you can turn me in, but then you wouldn't want to do that would you?" After a pause and seeing Hermione's confused face, Bellatrix continued, waving the knife around as she emphasized her point. "You see, I know what you did. I don't know why, and I don't care why, but I saw you cast the spell against that blood traitor bitch that foolishly chose to duel against me, Voldemort’s right hand." Bellatrix cackled once she saw Hermione's eye grow wide with realization. "I'm staying here under your protection for as long as I can stand being around you and you will do absolutely nothing about it unless you want the whole world to know what you did for the likes of me."

Hermione could not stop her thoughts from racing. She swore no one knew what she had done after the lack of focus the press had on her. What a fool she was for thinking Bellatrix of all people would not know. Her thoughts moved to Harry and Ron. They had gotten close to Bellatrix’s hiding spot. What would happen if they tried to visit her? Would Bellatrix kill her on the spot? What would she even tell Harry and Ron in an excuse not to come? As her thoughts raced through her mind, Hermione quickly lost any sense of reason and rationality. She did not remember much else of what happened. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of her legs giving out from underneath of her and the world around her going black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that left kudos on the fic! I have made it my mission to create longer chapters, starting with this one. I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione woke up on her kitchen floor confused and disoriented. Her legs were splayed under her in a haphazard position and her neck had something poking the back of it. She opened her eyes to gather her surroundings before everything came rushing back.

Bellatrix…her knife pressed against her throat… her threat to reveal she was the one that saved Bellatrix for Merlin knows what reason if Hermione turned her in.

Hermione sat up, blinking her eyes against the light of the room, and noticing the pressure in the back of her neck was caused by the handle of one of her kitchen cabinets. Rubbing her neck, Hermione scanned the room.

Nothing looked out of place, or at least nothing looked much different than when Bellatrix had surprised her in the middle of her washing her dishes, as the dirty dished still appeared to be in or near the sink. She slowly got up and groaned, looking for the clock on the wall to see how long she had been out. She glanced over at it and saw it was a few minutes past 19:30, not long after she started cleaning the dishes.

Hermione walked out of the kitchen, looking for the dark witch and hoped that she had just been a figment of her imagination, but knowing deep down that was not the case. Her prediction was correct, as she rounded the corner and saw Bellatrix sitting in her living room in her favorite chair, eating a bowl of the stew Hermione had been in the process of cleaning up before her world shifted. 

“Ah, so the Mudblood lives.” Bellatrix said, waving her spoon around in the air. “Nice stew by the way. Could use a bit of heat if I do say so myself.”

Hermione stood in shock. Bellatrix had just moments ago threatened her life and now decided she would compliment her culinary skills? She knew Bellatrix was crazy but truly these mood swings were more than she had expected. 

Not wanting to let her guard down, Hermione spoke. “What exactly do you presume to do here?” She asked, getting right to the point.

Bellatrix, having just scooped another spoonful of the stew, answered while chewing a piece of chicken. “I believe I’ve already explained this, pet, though your little show of falling to the floor so dramatically may have caused a lapse in your memory. Nice performance, by the way.” She said before swallowing and standing up to get closer to Hermione.  
“I was hiding.” Bellatrix said as she stepped closer.

“Your friends got too close for itty bitty Bella’s comfort” She stepped closer still.

“I came here knowing you could do nothing about it.” One more step.

“And here I am.” Bellatrix ended, standing inches away from Hermione’s face.

Bellatrix leaned over to Hermione’s frozen form and whispered in her ear. “Oh, I’m going to have some fun with you, Muddy.”

If Hermione had not been frozen before, she certainly was now. She stood as still as she could, trying to slow her erratic breathing from fear of the dark witch’s sudden closeness.   
Bellatrix stepped back and cackled. She threw the bowl she had been eating out of over her shoulder, not caring where it went, and started walking up the stairs. “I’m going to find a nice little bed now. Don’t come trying to disturb me, filth, or you’ll end up with a matching scar on your other pretty little arm.” 

She paused on a step before continuing. “Ah, I do wish I could kill you right here in your comfy little home, but a Black always repays their debts, so you’re safe for now, pet.” She cackled once more before finishing her climb up the stairs and entering Hermione’s bedroom.

Hermione had time to catch the bowl Bellatrix had flung carelessly, but the spoon dropped to the floor, clanging loudly against the hard wood. 

Hermione broke from her reverie and grabbed the spoon from the floor, prepared to magically clean the dishes, no longer enjoying the thought of cleaning them manually. She could hear Bellatrix rooting through each of the rooms upstairs. They consisted of a guest room, a bathroom, her personal library, and her own bedroom and bathroom.  
After hearing the pacing stop, Hermione heard Bellatrix’s child-like voice coming from the second floor. “This is adequate. Mudbud, do you hear me? This one is mine now.” She finished the last sentence with a slam of the door.

She cleaned everything up before walking to the base of the stairs, unsure of whether she wanted to walk up or not. She could see from her vantage point that the room Bellatrix had chosen, of course, was her own bedroom, so it looked like she was stuck with the guest room.

She could have walked in, demanding to have access to her room and toss the witch into the guest room, or even better, on the floor, but she was not dumb and knew the threat of getting a matching scar was not far from the truth, if not completely true. 

She numbly walked up the stairs and went into her guest room. It was cozy, with a queen-sized bed, a small writing desk, and a chair by the window, but apparently that had not been enough for Bellatrix. Hermione contemplated sending a letter with her owl to Harry explaining her predicament, but she knew Bellatrix’s threat to reveal what she had done was not made idlily and Hermione would be charged, if not sent to Azkaban for aiding the escape of the notorious death eater.

Hermione plopped herself down on the bed, knowing she would not get much sleep, if any, and thought once again about how foolish she had been to save Bellatrix all those years ago. She had not regretted it before since she knew she had prevented a death, even if it was the woman currently keeping her prisoner in her own home. She tried to regret it now but could not bring herself to do it.

She stood by her decision and decided perhaps she would try to make the most of the situation. They were currently at a standstill. Hermione could not turn Bellatrix in because she would reveal what she had done, and Bellatrix could not get rid of her because of the debt she owed Hermione for saving her life.  
It was a catch-22 and Hermione decided she would not let Bellatrix get the best of her. She would do what she could to live her life as normally as she could and avoid the Dark Lord’s former right hand as often as possible. With that resolve, she decided she would attempt to get some rest, but not before putting a few protective wards on the door for extra safety. She was going to give this a shot, but she was not dumb.

The next morning Hermione woke up with the sun as she always had, this time panting and trying to catch her breath after waking up from her ever so often recurring nightmare of the night the cursed word was carved into her arm. It always made her arm throb for a while after having these dreams.

Hermione sat up glanced around the slightly unfamiliar room. She groaned, hoping everything had been a dream, but as she realized after passing out the night before, this was a bitter reality and she had awoken in her guest room after Bellatrix declared her own bedroom as hers now. At least that explained why she had the dream.  
Hermione begrudgingly got up, rubbing her sore arm, and unwarded her door. Usually she would make her coffee, lounge in her living room for a bit, and then get ready for the day, but Hermione wanted to get as far away from the dark witch as possible, so instead of venturing into her bedroom where the other witch presumably was still sleeping, as indicated by the still closed door, she decided she would just transfigure her bath robe into a semblance of some casual robes and made a mental note to grab her clothes from her room once Bellatrix had vacated it for the day.

Hermione walked to the guest bath, used a spell to make her hair look slightly more presentable than the current bed head, and used the guest toothbrush to freshen up. She decided she would just get coffee in the staff room before she started working for the day.

After some contemplation, Hermione thought it would be best to she would go to work as if nothing had happened the night before. She wanted everything to feel normal after feeling completely out of control about her current situation. Getting back to her regular routine, with a few modifications to spend as much time away from Bellatrix’s presence as possible, would help Hermione feel like she had some semblance of control in her current situation.

After freshening up, Hermione apparated to the outside of St. Mungos and walked in. She headed straight to the staff room to grab some coffee, planning to take it back to her office and avoid talking to anyone, but instead had run into Neville. She immediately remembered it was Saturday, the day Neville visits his parents who had been cursed to near death by the very witch holed up in her home.

Hermione had wanted to avoid him at all costs, not being able to face him knowing she was harboring his parent’s torturer in her house, even if she was unwillingly doing it, but fate had other plans, as she had walked almost right into him.

“Hey Hermione, how are you? You’re here earlier than usual.” He stated, knowing her usual times due to his frequent visits to the hospital.

“Oh, hi Neville. I just wanted to get a head start on my research today. I made good headway yesterday and don’t want to prolong the momentum.” She said, thinking on her feet. 

She realized that probably had not been the best excuse after seeing Neville’s eye shine with hope, aware of Hermione’s current dedication to helping his parent’s condition.

“Well, I won’t hold you back. Good luck, Hermione.” He stated and reached out to put his hand on her arm. “And thank you again. The idea of having them back even just a little bit makes me so proud. If anyone can do it, you can.”

Neville removed his hand and continued his path to his parent’s room. Hermione stood in the hallway for a moment, crushed at the hopeful look in Neville’s eyes and the reassurance he had given her. He had so much faith in her, and even though she had been making a little bit of progress with the potion, she was nowhere near close to anything she felt confident enough to try out. 

Hermione solemnly continued her walk to the staff room, grabbed some coffee to bring back to her office, careful to avoid anyone else that may want to stop and talk to her, and slumped down in her office chair. She sipped her coffee and decided she would get right to work instead of enjoying the bitter drink. She owed that much to Neville after giving him so much false hope.

She followed her thoughts on the mermaid hair and it’s uses for the potion. She also wanted to explore other ingredients as well. The hair was a good idea, but too risky to try unless it was the only option. She wanted to rule other things out before she went to that extreme. 

And so, Hermione spent the rest of the day pondering over different ingredients to use, researching their possible effects and potencies, and writing down promising ideas until the clock in her office struck 17:00. She glanced at the clock and sighed, giving in to the idea of going home and making a nice dinner, especially after working through her lunch hour.

She walked over to the fireplace connected to the Floo network, not having the energy to apparate home, and stumbled out of her home fireplace after a few moments of being whooshed away in the familiar green flames.

Hermione walked hesitantly upstairs, not knowing where the dark witch was and not wanting to disturb the beast in case she was in a bad mood. She was in luck, as she was able to walk to her bedroom after seeing no one in it and made the decision to use this time to grab her things and transfer them to the guest room so she would have access to them.  
She shook her head in the process of grabbing some extra clothes, thinking how backwards it was for her to be doing this in her own home, afraid to walk into her bedroom while the witch that haunted her nightmares was sleeping in her bed. She cleared her head and grabbed one last pair of pajamas to change into before walking to the guest bathroom to change.

She decided to go for cotton grey sweatpants and a slightly large t-shirt from a muggle university she acquired from a thrift shop one day after her embarrassment of wearing only her robe and undergarments the day before when Bellatrix showed up.

Now she was more than covered up and felt comfortable enough to be around the strange, crazed witch. She pulled her hair up to get it out of her way as before she prepared her food and excited the bathroom. She wondered downstairs and was finally greeted by Bellatrix. It looked like the witch had poorly attempted to transfigure some of Hermione’s clothing, noticing the pattern one of her sun dresses on the witch, though now more form fitting and darker. 

If it were not the other witch wearing it, Hermione would have laughed at how ridiculous the outfit looked, but Hermione did not trust the other witch not to hurt her if she knew she was laughing at her. 

“Finally, the Mudblood graces my presence. Where have you been all day?” Bellatrix asked, before quickly following up, “You know what? I don’t care. Are you going to stand there or are you going to make food? I don’t like to be kept waiting.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin in the haughty way only purebloods seemed to be able to perfect.   
Hermione’s blood started to boil, but before she retorted, she unclenched her fists and decided not to answer the other witch. She figured giving in to the witch’s questioning would only make her happy, so she was going to ignore her.

Hermione brushed past Bellatrix and grabbed what she needed from the cabinets and fridge and began cooking. She decided she would take it easy tonight and also avoid having to use a knife, not quite ready to relive what had happened the night before and started making spaghetti. She magicked the water so it would immediately start boiling and started cooking the meat for the sauce. 

After a while, she got in the groove of cooking and almost forgot the other witch was there. She started humming mindlessly to herself, a habit she picked up from her mother after watching her cook when Hermione was a child. She broke from her reverie when a voice spoke, closer to her than she was expecting.   
“What is that?” the witch asked from behind her shoulder.

Hermione suppressed the urge to jump at the witch’s voice and answered. “You can’t tell me you’ve never had spaghetti before.” 

“Not the food, you fool. The music. What is it? Some muggle shit I’m expecting since I’m not familiar with it.” She replied hiding her curiosity with a look of distain.  
“Oh, that. It’s from a movie.” Hermione answered, glancing over her should at the other witch before catching her confused look.

“Movies are a muggle form of entertainment. I guess the best way to explain it is a long wizarding photo with sound.” She explained. After not being reprimanded for explaining, she continued.

“There’s many genres, but the one song I was humming from was a child’s movie. It’s called The Little Mermaid. It was a favorite of mine when I was younger.” She finished.  
Bellatrix sneered back at her. “Just what I thought, some muggle shit. Don’t bother, muddy, I just asked to get you to speak up. I now regret my choice.” She explained hastily and slumped down in a chair at the kitchen table.

Hermione shook her head. She knew what she was about to say was probably a bad idea, or at least not a very well thought out one given the pure blood’s earlier reaction to “muggle shit,” but she was never one to back down from a challenge once it had presented itself.

“Why don’t I show you and then you can decide whether it’s “muggle shit” or not?” She asked confidently.

Bellatrix looked to be in thought before speaking. “I know it is shit. A muggle made it so that’s all there it to it, but I will watch it just so I can crush that stupid gleam you have in your eyes about it.” She stated, twirling her wand in her fingers.

“Great, we’ll watch it with dinner. There’s nothing like dinner and a show.” Hermione finished, sounding optimistic, but feeling cautious and confused on the inside, not knowing how long this weird banter would continue before Bellatrix flipped again and threatened her life once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that left kudos and reviews! You guys really keep me going!


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione sat down at the table with her spaghetti, leaving Bellatrix to serve herself. She wanted to have a non-hostile environment, but she also was not going to cater to Bellatrix's beck and call. 

Bellatrix seemed to notice what Hermione was doing, frowned a bit, and quickly changed her expression to her haughty pureblood face as if she had meant to serve herself the whole time, though that was obviously not the case. 

Once Bellatrix returned to the table Hermione observed her out of the corner of her eye. Spaghetti was not a traditional wizarding dish, though some families ate it like half-bloods and muggle borns with muggle backgrounds. She had even taught Mrs. Weasley how to cook it once. That was how she knew the pure blood was lying when she said she knew what the dish was.

Hermione waited to take her first bite, trying to see how Bellatrix would handle the task. She was correct in assuming Bellatrix was not going to ask Hermione for help.   
Hermione busied herself with adding parmesan cheese and cutting the noodles into more manageable pieces.

Bellatrix glanced at Hermione briefly, decided cutting the food up was pointless, and stabbed at the noodles with her fork. When that failed, she scooped until she had a few on the fork and shoveled them into her mouth, trying, and failing, to look as if she had done this many times before.

It was only then that Hermione decided to twirl her first bite onto her fork and take a rather more graceful bite.

Hermione could hear Bellatrix let out a small "hmpf" before deciding to follow Hermione's lead and eat the way she had seen the Mudblood do it. 

Dinner proceeded in the same fashion afterwards, Bellatrix ignoring the fact that she in fact did not know what she was doing and Hermione pretending that she did not notice. When both witches finished their plates, Hermione set the dishes in the sink and went to the living room to set up the movie. 

She was unsure of how Bellatrix would react to the muggle technology, but she had to admit she was a bit intrigued. 

Bellatrix slumped herself down into Hermione's favorite chair, leaving Hermione to sit on the couch. The moment Hermione turned on the DVD, she noticed the subtle shift in the other witch. 

Her eyes never left the screen and she sat up straighter, trying to get a better look at the images. The beginning scenes started to play, with the mermaids preparing for their performance and Ariel of course not being there. Hermione heard Bellatrix snort, "Of course muggles don't know actual mermaids would never degrade themselves to this."

The movie continued with Bellatrix muttering side comments, including her support for Ursula and dislike of the happy ending. When the credits started rolling, Bellatrix simply got up, exclaimed the movie was "completely unrealistic," and went to her bedroom and shut the door.

Hermione did not know how to react to the witch. She had not threatened her for the duration of the day, and she seemed to be taking everything in stride. True, she had forced herself into Hermione's home so perhaps the lack of violence was her way of showing her gratitude even though Hermione had no choice in the matter, but it did not seem like a Bellatrix thing to do. The woman remained an enigma.

Hermione decided she would just charm the dishes to clean themselves, as she wanted to get to bed for the night. Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant she was having her weekly Sunday dinner with Harry and Ginny. Sometimes others would show up as well, so Hermione was looking forward to a bit of normalcy with her friends. 

Hermione walked up the stairs and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. After finishing and going back to the guest room, Hermione paused outside of the room Bellatrix was in. She listened closely and could swear she heard Bellatrix humming an off-pitch version of Poor Unfortunate Souls. 

Hermione shook her head and walked into her temporary bedroom, shutting the door and adding the wards she had added the night before. Before drifting off to sleep, Hermione thought she could faintly hear the humming in the other room continuing.

Hermione woke up well rested the next morning, a pleasant change from the previous night. She walked to her temporary closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a pink sweater to wear for the day. She wanted to be comfortable and knew Harry expected nothing more than casual clothing for their dinners.

Continuing with her pleasant mood, Hermione walked downstairs and started a pot of coffee. She had failed to notice the door to her former bedroom had been open and Bellatrix was no longer inside.

As Hermione was waiting for the coffee to brew, she felt the blade of the knife she had been threatened with before pressing once again against her throat. Had she been in a different mood, she would have been scared, but she was just annoyed at this point. 

"Really? This again? What do you want, Lestrange?" Hermione asked irritably.

If Bellatrix seemed taken aback by Hermione's response, she did not show it. "I need clothes. I can't continue to transfigure your Mudblood trash." She stated firmly.

Hermione blew out a breath of irritation. "Clothes? You couldn't have, I don't know, asked politely? Or at least without a knife to my throat? This is getting real tiring, Bellatrix." She exclaimed, turning around in Bellatrix's grasp and crossing her arms against her chest to display her lack of amusement.

Bellatrix removed her arm with the knife and caressed it against Hermione's cheek. 

"I suppose I could, Muddy, but what would be the fun in that?" She leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

At that, Hermione had had enough. The derogatory words were one thing, but that combined with the closeness and that damn knife was too much. Hermione pushed Bellatrix backwards.

"Will you STOP calling me that? Obviously you don't have as much a problem as you say you do with my blood status considering you're staying in my home, wearing my clothes which I didn't even give you permission to do, and may I add you couldn't look away from the movie last night which guess what? Was created by MUGGLES. So, STOP the terms, STOP the knife shit, and tell me what you bloody want!"

By the time Hermione was finished, she was breathing heavily and without consciously doing it, had walked straight towards Bellatrix and emphasized each of her points by pointing an accusing finger at her.

Bellatrix looked taken aback with a pout, confused, and then slightly amused. She started a low laugh.

"Listen here, pet," she spoke menacingly, emphasizing the last word with a tilt to her head. "I told you why I am here. I don't need to give you any other explanation. I don't owe you anything except my continued silence on your widdle secret." She continued, talking to Hermione as if she were a child. 

She started to walk away and effectively end the conversation before turning around at the doorway of the kitchen. "Continue that little fierceness you've got, pet. It suits you nicely." She smirked, before walking out of the room completely.

Hermione stood still for a second before walking over to her kitchen counter and slamming her fists against it. "FUCKING DAMN IT!" she exclaimed. 

She stood up to Bellatrix which she felt great about, but the woman was so infuriating. She never acted angry at her, just talked down to her or slightly flirted with her if one looked closer at it, which Hermione refused to do. Hermione was confused and angry. She wanted a stronger reaction out of the witch.

She still did not know why Bellatrix chose her house. She knew what Bellatrix had said but knew she had to be holding something back. There had to be more to it.

Hermione walked over to a hidden compartment in the back of the cabinet that held her mugs, opened it up and grabbed a bottle of fire whisky. She knew she would need something strong to get her through the rest of the time before heading to Grimmauld Place where Harry and Ginny were living. She filled her mug up with coffee and splashed some fire whisky in it, leaving the bottle next to the coffee pot for later use in case one mug was not enough to calm the turmoil she was currently feeling.

She sat down in her chair in the living room, remembering the last person sitting in it was the very person causing her frustration. She took a gulp of the coffee, humming pleasantly at the burn of the alcohol as it went down. She decided she needed to get out of the house and could kill two birds with one stone by buying Bellatrix new clothes while also avoiding her company, knowing she wouldn't dare show her face in public. She reasoned with herself that she was caving to Bellatrix's request simply because she did not want to continue hearing the dark witch complain about her own clothes any longer.

"Bellatrix!" She yelled, not in the mood to look around for her. 

Not long after yelling, Hermione heard footsteps coming from her library. Until now, it had never occurred to her that the other witch would be interested in reading. She kept that thought to ponder over later, as Bellatrix walked over and leaned against the doorframe.

"I'm going to Diagon Alley to get a few things. What kind of clothes do you want?" She asked, not deigning a glance at the dark witch while also not letting Bellatrix know that she was only going out to get Bellatrix her clothes and she didn't really need anything from there herself.

Bellatrix smirked and looked in thought for a few moments. 

"No pants. Long dresses with corsets are preferable. and nothing brighter than emerald green. I also need undergarments. While free flowing is liberating, I do prefer a bit of lingerie." She finished with a wink.

Had Hermione been drinking her spiked coffee, she would have choked at the last comment. Thankfully she had just taken a sip before the comment came out, so instead Hermione gaped at the other witch for a few seconds before composing herself.

"I will finish my drink and leave. You are free to peruse the library and any amenities you feel necessary. If you would wish to watch television, the remote is here. I'm sure you can figure out how to operate it." She added the last part, trying to get a jab in at the witch's ignorance of muggle technology.

Bellatrix lifted herself from the doorway and sauntered over to where Hermione was sitting, placing a hand on her cheek and leaning slightly against Hermione's legs. 

"I never ask for permission to do what I want. Nevertheless, I may take you up on the offer to use the contraption," she said while glancing to the side at the television, "though my hopes aren't very high if the content is the same as that foolishness last night. Utter nonsense, that was, pet." She finished with two quick pats to Hermione's cheek before walking back into the library.

Hermione gulped the rest of the coffee down, hoping the fire whisky would tamper down whatever feeling she had been left with after that encounter, briefly noting that after her earlier argument, Bellatrix had stopped using derogatory terms relating to her blood status, not that she enjoyed being called “pet” in its place. She shook her head to clear it of that last thought and figured she would get her shopping out of the way and clean up when she got home, as she walked over to the fireplace and clearly said "Diagon Alley."

She arrived in the familiar town with not much of an idea of where to start. She figured she would stop by a dress store she had in mind first, hoping they had something that at least resembled the description Bellatrix had given her. To be truthful, Hermione enjoyed shopping for others. She never thought her joy of shopping for her friends would transfer to the women currently residing in her home, but she found the experience to be just as pleasurable, secretly hoping Bellatrix would enjoy what she had picked out for her.

Hermione left the first store with three dresses, all in different shades of black and hints of Slytherin green. She also bought a corset that looked like it would go with each dress, so she only needed to buy the one. The store owner, having known the Golden Girl from the articles in The Daily Prophet, looked at Hermione with slight skepticism over her choice in clothing, noting they did not look like anything Hermione herself would wear, but chose to keep her thoughts to herself.

Hermione strolled aimlessly down the alley, peering into stores as she walked past. Something in one of the windows caught her eye and before she knew it, she was at the checkout counter buying a pair of dark, knee high, dragonhide boots for the witch. She supposed this was just a distraction to prolong her trip to the lingerie store, but she did not let herself dwell on that, instead thinking of how Bellatrix may react to the article she had not specifically asked for.

Hermione continued thinking of the dark witch much longer than she expected to as she begrudgingly opened the door to the dreaded store. She was surrounded by multiple sets of lingerie of all colors. The shop owner greeted her and asked if she needed any help finding anything. Hermione dismissed her politely, saying she was just looking, and began her search around the room.

She thought back on Bellatrix's earlier comment about "free flowing," questioning whether the witch really had been wearing nothing under her own clothes that Bellatrix had transfigured for the time being. Her cheeks heated up at the thought while Hermione pondered over whether she would ever be able to wear the clothing again once Bellatrix had been given her own clothes.

Hermione continued to browse the racks before coming across a few things she thought would suit Bellatrix. She didn't know why, but she had a feeling Bellatrix would enjoy a black lace set. She grabbed a few of the sets, some black, some dark grey, and walked towards the counter, ready to check out. 

She stopped before reaching the counter though, as something caught her eye. She did not know why she did it, but she reached out and grabbed a black bustier with ruby red accents and shoved it into the pile of other clothing. She normally did not care much about what her undergarments looked like, as long as they were comfortable since no one besides herself was going to see them, but the bustier caught her eye and she thought she would perhaps give it a try.

She quickly checked out, avoiding eye contact with the manager and left with a quick "thank you." Once she made it outside, she apparated back to her home, too flustered to bother walking back down the alley to the fireplace she had arrived in. She arrived in her living room and went to toss the bags on her chair as she intended to clean the kitchen from her coffee and drink this morning before giving Bellatrix the clothing, but she was distracted by the scene that welcomed her. 

Bellatrix was lying on the couch with the now empty bottle of fire whisky she had left on the counter in her hands, completely engrossed in what looked like a cooking show. Bellatrix let her gaze slip over to Hermione after seeing her arrive and pointed to the television. 

"Hey pet," she began, slightly slurring her words, "I want that tonight." She added a pout at the next sentence. "Can you make that for me?"

Hermione blinked at the scene before her, glancing at the screen seeing the chef on the tv making a hamburger. 

"A hamburger?" She asked.

Bellatrix looked over at her and nodded her head in glee. "Yes, all that meat and cheese! I need it." She all but salivated. 

Hermione shook her head. "Bellatrix, you're drunk. Also, you're on your own for dinner. I have plans and won't be here to cook anything." 

Bellatrix blinked at her and pouted. "But you cook so gooood. I can't do that. I can't even cook." She said, giggling slightly in her drunken bliss. 

Hermione didn't even bother correcting her grammar, as the witch was a drunken mess and probably wouldn't remember this conversation later anyway. She reached over to grab the empty bottle Bellatrix was cradling and snatched it out of her hand, intent on cleaning up from the morning and whatever mess Bellatrix may have left in the meantime.

Bellatrix groaned as Hermione grabbed the bottle, but then caught sight of the bags Hermione had on her hand and snatched them out from her grasp.

"All these for little old me? Why you shouldn't have, pet." She remarked while ripping through the bags. She grabbed the bag with the dresses first, nodding in approval at each one. She then moved to the lingerie bag. It was exactly when Bellatrix pulled out the bustier Hermione had gotten for herself for some reason she still could not explain that she realized she had been too distracted by the sight of the drunken witch drooling over muggle food and not had time to take it out before Bellatrix saw it.

Hermione grabbed the bustier out of Bellatrix's grasp and muttered a small, "that one isn't for you," before allowing Bellatrix to continue ripping through the bags. Bellatrix glanced up at Hermione and smirked. 

"Ah, the girl has someone she wants to impress. That's a good choice, pet, though I personally would have gone with something a little more see-through. Leaves less to the imagination." She teased, noticing Hermione's cheeks and neck grow redder with each comment.

"I-n-no, this isn't for anyone but me." Hermione stammered out, frustrated with how flustered she sounded.

Bellatrix cackled before turning back to the bag and appraising the rest of the lingerie Hermione had chosen for her.

"Have fun imagining me in these, did you, pet? I bet you were just trembling with your fantasies." She winked over at Hermione. 

Hermione did not know how to react with all the weird feelings she was having at all the teasing, so she grumbled something about needing the clean up and turned away into the kitchen, leaving Bellatrix alone to look through the last bag. 

Hermione was in the middle of dumping out the now cold coffee as she heard a loud, almost cheerful, if that's what it can be called coming from Bellatrix, squeal coming from the living room.

Hermione continued her cleaning with a smirk, happy to know Bellatrix was pleased with her impulse-buy. She heard a bit of ruffling coming from the other room and then heard the tell-tale noise of heels walking into the room. It seemed that as Hermione was cleaning, Bellatrix had put on one of the dresses and the boots and sauntered into the room for Hermione to see.

Seeing Bellatrix in her full glory, Hermione was mystified. She of course had seen Bellatrix before, but her clothes always seemed to have some tears in them. Now, she wore a black dress, the black corset she had gotten to go along with the dresses, and those heels that now made her a few inches taller than the brunette. 

Bellatrix smirked as she sauntered over to Hermione. 

"Nice choices, pet. I had my doubts about you, I did, but you follow directions well." She said, walking closer to the woman as she spoke.

She stopped directly in front of Hermione, close enough to smell the fire whisky coming off her breath and leaned into her ear.

"I think now it's time for you to try on what you bought, little minx." She finished, brushing her lips against Hermione's cheek dangerously close to the corner of her mouth.

Hermione stood still, rationalizing that the woman would never be this flirtatious around her had she not consumed almost a full bottle of the potent alcohol. The rationalizations only got so far though, as her most pressing thought was "why the hell am I so mesmerized by her?" followed by, "I need to get the hell out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos! Special thanks to Djinn15 for reviewing (I hope this satisfied your desire!) as well as diana_princess_ww (I hope your sentiments remain the same with this chapter!).


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